


It's Been Awhile

by spread_my_wings



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:52:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9650417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spread_my_wings/pseuds/spread_my_wings
Summary: Things have been strained since Bruce "died", and it's been awhile since they've been able to just be brothers. Alfred calls for movie night, so maybe it's time to mend some fences.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [audreycritter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreycritter/gifts).



> I haven’t written any fiction that wasn’t RP-related in years… probably 2009 or so, so I’m out of practice. I’ve been feeling a mighty need to get back into it, though, so I proposed a fictrade with @audreycritter  
> It’s baby steps, but hopefully I’ll get my writing feet back beneath me soon… :)

Dick stretched and winced, scowling and blinking at the sun angling its relentless way through the slats in the blinds of his livingroom window. He supposed it was his own fault he was awake, now. He should have moved from the couch and slept in his bed the night before, in his bedroom with the blackout curtains that let him sleep no matter how sunshiny and bright the day outside. He'd been sore the night before and hadn't wanted to move after dinner, though.

  
Of course, that was nothing to how sore he felt, now.

  
He really should have known better.

  
Just because an injury was minor or hadn't occurred on patrol didn't mean it would affect the body any differently. The problem was, he'd ignored it because it had been a minor thing... and a somewhat embarrassing one, at that. He sighed and sat up. He wasn't going to get back to sleep, now. It just wasn't going to happen. He supposed he could catch up on laundry and grocery shopping since he didn't have anywhere else to be for the rest of the weekend.

  
Twenty minutes later, he was in the kitchen, staring at the refrigerator. He'd planned on an omelet for breakfast, but that wasnt going to happen, either. He'd realized that the second he'd reached for the skillet. Stretching his shoulder over his head to reach the pot rack had been enough to have him cursing under his breath, but actually trying to lift the heavy pan had been enough to change his plans in a hurry.

  
He felt better than when he'd woken up, but he was a lot worse than he had been the night before. Concrete had a way of doing that, especially when the body that hit it wasn't wearing kevlar or body armor. He sighed and grabbed for a yogurt and some juice, making sure to use his left hand, this time. Just moving hurt, though, so he grabbed a bottle of painkillers from the drawer under the counter. At least he had basic first aid supplies stashed a few places around his apartment; he'd learned that lesson the hard way.

  
When his stomach growled, he remembered all he'd had the night before had been a frozen dinner. He'd been too sore to try for more than that, and then he'd closed his eyes to rest and now here he was. He added a not quite too brown banana and a box of cereal to his collection. It would do until lunch. He'd hit up the deli down the street on his way to get groceries, and then maybe call for takeout for dinner if things weren't any better after laundry. He'd been injured enough times to realize that would be the probable outcome.

  
He managed a decent enough... well, it wasn't really like the granola and fruit parfaits Alfred made for brunch sometimes, but it was filling, anyway, and the best he was going to manage without actually cooking. He was just tossing the dishes into the sink when his phone rang from what sounded like the couch cushions. He'd have ignored it if he hadn't recognized the James Bond theme.

  
"Alfred?"

  
He lowered himself carefully to the coffee table - he knew he'd never get up easily from the depths of the couch cushions' clutches.

  
"Good morning. Yeah, just finishing up breakfast. No, no plans other than laundry and grocery shopping. Oh. Tonight? Yeah, I can swing by on my way..." Because no, he wasn't going to tell Alfred no. He didn't hide his doubts as well as he could have, perhaps, but he definitely wasn't going to tell Alfred no. Not when he'd asked.

  
"Okay, got it. Movie starts at seven. Tell Tim I'll start driving around his block at six, then. I'll never find a parking spot near him on a weekend." Especially not when the Knights had a home game that night.

  
"Thanks, Alfie. You too. Seeya tonight." Dick dropped his head to his knees, ignoring the twinges all over his body. He and Tim were working together, still, but things were still strained if one knew what to look for.

  
And Alfred did.

  
Of course he did. Alfred knew everything.

  
That also meant Alfred knew best.

  
As much as Dick wasn't looking forward to it, he knew he needed to do this. They were family. And family, whatever form it manifested as, meant something to all of them. It was why they did what they did every night.

  
Okay. He was going to do this.

  
.·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*:·. .·:*¨¨*:·.

  
It was closer to 6:15 when he made his first slow loop around Tim's block. He'd failed to take into account just how difficult driving was going to be. Especially driving a stick. He was in luck, though. Tim was running late, too, and was just coming out the door of his building as he pulled up. He slowed down enough to let Tim jump in, and he offered up a grin as he watched Tim stow his laptop bag in the back seat. Some things never changed, and he could almost forget all that had happened over the last year.

  
"Welcome aboard, Timbo."

  
"Hey."

  
Okay, it was going to be one of those nights. Well, he'd worked with Bruce for years. He was used to quiet conversational partners. He could do this.

  
"I upgraded the stereo," he offered, nodding toward the short auxiliary cord hanging from the dash. "We can actually listen to something for more than a two minute stretch at a time..."

  
Even the reference to the horrid radio reception in his car didn't merit more than a quiet "Thanks," as Tim pulled up a playlist. It wasn’t the unobtrusive classical music he’d expected. It was some angsty sounding guitar ballad.

  
Dick stifled a sigh. This wasn't going to be easy. Nothing he'd planned on saying seemed suitable now that it was time. Time to wing it, then.  
He darted a quick glance towards the other seat. Tim was looking out the window, abstracted, but he could see his reflection in the side window. He looked tired. Dick felt like twenty different kinds of a horrible person.

  
"I'm sorry, Tim. I was so busy trying to take over for Bruce that I ended up doing exactly what he would have. I assumed and didn't explain." He took a deep breath, ready to dive back in and abase himself a little more, anything to ease some of those lines from Tim's forehead, to get his little brother to crack a smile at one of his stupid jokes.

  
"Dick."

  
And Dick knew better, but the urgency made him pull his eyes from the road in front of him to look Tim in the face.

  
"Dick! Watch out!"

  
"Oh crap!" He braked and down-shifted and it was too much movement, too quick, all at once. He couldn't hide the hiss of pain as he eased slowly into the thickening traffic. He didn't dare look over at Tim, now.

  
"What were you thinking? Scratch that. You weren't. I can tell. But what happened? Why did Alfred ask you to pick me up if you were hurt?" A moment's pause. "Wait. You weren't hurt on patrol the other night, so Alfred doesn't even know, does he? What happened?"

  
Dick didn't take his eyes off the road once. "Nothing serious..." He didn't offer anything more. He just focused on what appeared to be a lovely looking traffic jam forming around them.

  
_Wonderful_.

  
"Dick..." Tim's tone carried a note of steel, an audible extension of the Batglare.  

It wasn't at all like Bruce's or Alfred's or even Dick's own, but he felt a sudden need to explain everything.  Dick gave an aborted shrug of his left shoulder, thankful that he wasn't as sore on that side, at least. "I fell."

  
"Fell? From where? If it wasn't on patrol, then how..."

  
Dick could practically hear the crinkles on Tim's forehead as he tried to puzzle it out.

  
"I slipped, okay? On some ice." He could feel his cheeks heat up as he admitted it. They'd been rotating a few nights off patrol each week ever since Bruce had returned, and he hadn't been scheduled to go out the night before, so no one had even had a reason to know. He would have been fine in another day or two, he was just banged up. And sore.

  
And embarrassed as hell.

  
"You fell?" Tim couldn't hold in the laugh that burst out. "You mean _you_ fell. Not..." He made a stylized set of bat ears with his fingers.

  
"Yeah. I guess someone left their hose dripping on their balcony or something and there was a light glaze of ice on the stairs. A kid in my building was taking their new puppy for a walk and he pulled loose from their grasp. I didn't want the pup to get hurt..." Dick had caught the leash before the dog had gotten into traffic, but he'd made the most ungraceful, ungainly landing anyone had ever seen, falling back against the concrete of the stairs and then bouncing onto the curb and sidewalk. He'd been holding on so tightly to the dog that he hadn't braced himself against the fall at all.

  
"Nothing serious. I just hurt all over." His pride included.

  
"You injured yourself rescuing a puppy..." Tim didn't even bother asking it, just stated it. "Has anyone ever told you how ridiculous you are?"  
Dick's cheeks went a little redder. "Yeah. Babs." She'd been bugging him to make up with Tim for the last three weeks. He'd finally snapped and told her what he thought of her interference. The brief flash of anger had quickly given way to guilt as he walked up the stairs to his building.

  
"Well, she would know." And suddenly things relaxed a little.

  
Dick shook his head ruefully. "Yeah, I guess she would."

  
"You really are ridiculous, Dick. Pull over once you get a chance. I can drive."

  
"Are you sure?" As great as it sounded, Dick didn't want to be a bother.

  
"What's family for? If nothing else, it will be prime blackmail material for at least a week or two..."

  
Dick laughed. He'd talk things out more when they got a chance, but things were well on their way to mending, now.

  
"Okay, okay. When we stop I'll let Alf know we're running a little late. Maybe we won't miss too much of the movie." He frowned. "Actually, he didn't tell me what it was going to be..."

  
Tim burst out laughing. "Lilo and Stitch, Dick. You know. Ohana means family..."

  
"And family means no one gets left behind. Or forgotten..."

  
Alfred didn't even bother with subtlety, sometimes, but they'd cleared things up on their own even before his little lesson. "Maybe we'd better hurry then, Timbo. I'd hate to miss the opening song..."


End file.
